Yesterday I took the girls on our first bike ride. We went a bit over two miles. I was thrilled with how well they did. When Shanna fell over she jumped up and brushed herself off and said there was no blood so she was fine. She announced, “Well now I know not to turn my wheel like that on a driveway.”

When we were getting started we went over to 7-11 so I could fill up my tires with air. There was a gentleman sitting next to the machine having a smoke.

He was dirty, thin, greasy looking, his hair was straggly and unkempt. But he smiled at my kids and nodded to me. I smiled back and said a cheerful, “Hello!” He seemed surprised because he startled then looked down at the ground.

*I* know that I am no better than him. I felt a little weird as my kids rolled through on their shiny brand-spanking-new bikes. We have so much and he has so little. You don’t spend your days sitting next to the 7-11 smoking if you have anything better to do.

I have a nice comfy backyard to sit in when I smoke. I am in no way shape or form morally superior to him. But I’ll bet that he would be surprised by the idea that I am not better. I bet he would be surprised to find that I don’t believe I deserve better than him. I don’t think he is getting what he deserves. I don’t have to know him. I don’t know very many people on this planet who “get what they deserve” for good or for ill.

I choose to enact a lot of weird poverty quirks in my life. I flush my toilet with recycled bathwater. I wash out plastic Ziplock bags and use them forever. I have some kinda bizarre grey water recycling in my yard. My composting is not fancy or staged. It’s primitive. I just bury shit.

I feel guilty that I wasted the money on brand new bikes. I could have hunted yard sales. My kids would not have felt bad. They are equally excited. They have no brand name preferences.

But sometimes there are things you just want and it isn’t about whether or not you deserve them. There is no “right way” there is just what you did today.

I am not better or more deserving than anyone else. I’m sorry that other people are not getting closer to what they deserve.

We don’t deserve shiny new bicycles more than that man deserves somewhere to go where he is wanted and loved. But we have the bicycles and that man doesn’t seem like he has anywhere to be.

Life is very unfair sometimes. Sometimes it is unfair and you are at the bottom. sometimes it is unfair and you are at the top. We don’t get what we deserve. We don’t even really get what we earn.

Next time I will ask him his name. I have seen him there before when I was getting gas but not getting air. Next time I will not walk past him as one more person treating him like he is invisible.

I can’t afford a pet right now. It’s not that I will take him on as a project or try to fix his life. I can’t. I can’t give him what he deserves. It isn’t mine to give. But I can ask him his name and I can see him as a real person and if he turns out to be chatty with provocation I can listen.

He’s here. And I’m here. And no one gets what they deserve. And no one gets all of their needs met. Maybe I can see him and that is better than nothing. Many days that is all I need. I need to be seen. I need to be encouraged to still be here.

I have a home where I’m allowed to line the walls with photographs of people smiling down on me. I can bask in their love all day every day even though those people can’t actually stand me on a daily basis. Or they live far away. Or they are busy. Or.

Here we like to think about Helping People meaning that you send money to the third world. There are people within one mile of your house who would have their lives immeasurably improved if you spent one hour a week with them.

The world doesn’t have anything to give you. The world only cares what you have to give. It’s hard. It feels unfair. It feels silencing and horrible and awful and ugh.

The world doesn’t give a shit about your needs. The world is too busy nursing its own wounds. It isn’t personal. The world sure as shit doesn’t care about me either. I have to. It’s my job to care about me. Not anyone else. I mean, I kind of bully a little of it out of Noah and the girls but…

Breakfast is ready. I love you. Even if you drive me crazy. Even if you have nothing to give me and I have nothing to give you and I hate your politics. Even if I hate your religion.

I love you and I want you here. Maybe I don’t want you right here all the time but I want you in the world. Take up space. You matter. You impact people. Your ability to smile at someone or help them or ask a follow up question like, “So how did your dad’s surgery go?” make people feel like they are part of a web.

Just go talk to people. Even if you are kind of annoying. We need to be poked.

I love you. Even you.